


to save a life i didn't have

by Somethin_Strange



Series: wounds even the medigun can't fix [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: (whoops), Angst, Angst and Romance, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Deal with a Devil, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied Anti-Semetism, Pre-Canon, Soul Selling, Trans Male Character, Trauma, World War II, also he grew up during the 40s what do you expect, also might get some innacuraccies on Heavy's backstory, if the creators arent going to give these characters a backstory then goddamnit im going to, medic is jewish because i am. projecting <3, this story is not ABOUT ww2 but does discuss it. tread as carefully as one needs to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethin_Strange/pseuds/Somethin_Strange
Summary: “Then...what’s the catch?” Medic said, wary. “What do you want from me?”The Devil laughed.“What I want, Szymkowicz, is your soul.”---------------------------------------------------------------My idea for Medic's backstory, his first deal with the devil, and how he met a very specific teammate of his.Please read the tags!!
Relationships: Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2)
Series: wounds even the medigun can't fix [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193126
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	to save a life i didn't have

The first time Medic sold a soul, he was barely eighteen and it was his.

He wasn’t Medic back then. No, he was Ludwig Szymkowicz, eighteen years old, male; Ticket number thirteen thousand six-hundred and eighty eight with a destination of America.

The war itself had started when he had just turned fourteen, just old enough to recognize that Germany was not safe anymore.

He had stared with empty eyes into the flickering candlelight as the epiphany came; That Germany was not safe for Ludwig nor people like him anymore. That he and his mother needed to run while they still could.

His father, caught in the crossfire and left for dead, was testament to that.

It did not take long for the gunfire to nip at Ludwig’s heels as he ran; Violence hanging like a fog wherever he went.

He remembered those days well, though he sometimes wished he didn’t.

He had worked as a field nurse for the Allied Powers, desperately needing the money. Running errands, bringing bandages and water; He was not very useful at first but learned quickly.

Copying what he had seen his medically-trained mother do, he ran out onto the warzones and healed people as best he could. He was sixteen and already desensitized to it all; Trained to block out the noise of explosions and to hit the deck whenever someone yelled _“SHELL!”_.

Even when his mother died in combat, he kept going. He didn’t dare to second guess himself or what he was doing, not allowing a moment of reflection or doubt. Everytime he did, it would inevitably lead to tears of either frustration or grief that he refused to shed on the job.

He did have one person he confided in, though...A soldier barely older than him, hailing from the USSR. Mikhail, his name was, Misha for short; An excellent shot, especially with the heavier-duty weapons.

They sat back-to-back often, looking up at the stars and talking candidly. About their days, about their dreams, about each other. They barely spoke each other’s languages, but it was fascinating to hear Misha piece together sentences of German and fun to stumble over Russian phrases in turn.

It was Misha who convinced Ludwig that they should leave for America in the first place. It was a place of hope, Misha had told him, a place where they could make something better for themselves.

In all honesty, Misha could have convinced Ludwig to do anything as long as he kept talking in that softly excited tone; The one that made Ludwig’s heart flutter like a doves wing.

 _We will meet together in America_ , Misha had said with a ghost of a smile, _Somewhere warm._

They had saved enough to buy passage there, though Misha was on a different ship. The commanders discharged Misha soon after, though Ludwig did not know why; Misha’s last words to him being a promise of meeting again someday.

_In America- Somewhere warm, somewhere warm, somewhere warm._

God, how Ludwig’s heart longed for Misha now.

_What were these emotions? It felt like something closer than friendship, more passionate. Best friendship, perhaps? A lifelong bond._

So there Ludwig sat, in the hold of a ship; Dreaming of his friend’s embrace as the ocean rocked the boat from side to side.

He shivered, one thought repeating in his head.

_Gott, I just wish I wasn’t alone._

His wish was, unfortunately, granted.

“Ludwig Szymkowicz…” said a deep voice to his right. “We really should talk.”

The teen’s head darted up, mind reeling. Most did not know his name, especially not his full one. Most just called him _the child_ or _the doctor_ or _the_ _Heinzelmännchen_ at strangest. 

The voice had come from a man to Ludwig’s right, sitting leaned against the ship’s wall. He was quite tall, dressed in a fine-tailored suit with slicked back hair and a goatee. There wasn’t a spec of dirt on him, even as he puffed away at a cigar that left smoke hanging low around his face.

Oh, and he was also bright red; With horns that curled upwards from his forehead.

Ludwig sat there, shocked, for a moment before words started pouring out of his mouth.

“You. You’re Sata-”

The Devil put up his finger. “Ah, let me speak, let me speak. I know you, Szymkowicz. Just turned eighteen, fleeing your hometown...A Star of David necklace hidden underneath your shirt.”

“...You may know that, true. But you do not know me.”

The Devil chuckled darkly, hand trailing back to rest on his cigar. “Two years ago, during a summer rainstorm, you did your own top surgery. The action was slow that day, no wounded; So, hiding behind a tree, you bit down on a medkit and raised the bonesaw to your chest.”

Ludwig’s eyes widened. “How did you-?”

“I know _many_ things, Szymkowicz.” The Devil said, taking a long puff of his cigar. “I know you. I know Mikhail, your beloved. And if you want him to survive, you’re going to listen to me.”

The teenager slowly nodded, dread coiling in his stomach like a serpent. “A-Alright.”

“He is sick, illness caught from another passenger on the ship. Influenza. Without you, without his _Солнышко_ there to heal him, he is laid low. At least, without my intervention.”

Ludwig started to shiver more, barely comprehending the words. He could not imagine a world without Misha. “No…”

“However, with my intervention, he lives. Asymptomatic, he stays in the hospital for a few days and is released. Happy, healthy, safe.”

“Then...what’s the catch?” Ludwig said, wary. “What do you want from me?”

The Devil laughed.

“What I want, Szymkowicz, is your soul.”

Ludwig paused, blood running cold. 

“Is there any other way…?”

“No. It is either your soul or his blood on your hands.”

Ludwig looked away, trying to piece together a plan.

He was going to take the deal, yes. He literally couldn’t imagine a world without Misha, without his best friend. The very idea of Misha’s voice, his smile, the way his eyes lit up, gone forever? _His Misha, dead?_ No, he couldn’t allow this to happen. He wouldn’t, he refused.

But he’d have to be smart about it.

Ludwig took a deep breath. “I will give you my soul if all of my conditions are met.”

The Devil tilted his head, chuckling. “Head-strong. Go ahead then, it’s your soul; Ask for what you’d like, within reason.”

“Misha and I will remain alive and okay, yes? We remain that way until we can meet again,” Ludwig continued. “And we _will_ meet again, or else the deal is off.”

“Sure th-” The Devil started, before being cut off.

“And I want to go to medical school.”

There was a beat of silence.

At least before The Devil started to chuckle.

“I mean...It’s your soul, Symkowicz. Sure, you’ll go to medical school. And sure, you both’ll survive until you can meet again...briefly.”

Dread once again settled in Ludwig’s veins, cold as ice. “What do you mean, briefly?”

“Well, you two will meet again. Lock eyes, say each other’s names...And then your blue-shirted assailant will shoot you dead, just outside of help’s reach.”

“ _No._ ”

“Yes. And I’m just going to make a wild guess here and say that you want to survive for a _while_ after you two see each other again, yes?”

Ludwig gave a slow nod. “What’s the price...?”

The Devil reached up, flicking Ludwig’s forehead with his fingertips. “The price? The price is-” he said something in english, before translating back to german, “-your sanity.”

“My...what?”

“Your sanity. Everyday until you two meet I’ll take a little more.” The Devil quirked an eyebrow. “An incentive to find him quicker, yes?”

“I…” 

Ludwig paused, considering this.

Surely it couldn’t be _that_ long before they find each other. Surely he wouldn’t go crazy and start stealing skeletons or something. Surely he wouldn’t lose _that_ much of his mind...right? Of course right. 

The german teen took a deep breath.

“...I accept your conditions.”

The Devil gave a sick grin, summoning a scroll with a place to sign at the end.

“Just sign your name on the dotted line,” he said, “and we’re good to go.”

  
  


And he did.

Surely, surely there was no way this could backfire on him.

Right?

(It did.)

**Author's Note:**

> Heinzelmännchen - A type of German fairy. A light-hearted jab about how Medic was hardworking yet short.  
> Солнышко - Sunshine.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed; I strongly encourage you to leave a comment if you did!!  
> Have a great day!!


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